Bikes & Blood

𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈.

Dismounting from her bike beneath the ominous blackness of the sky, Amara tugged the key from the ignition and kicked the kickstand into place with a distinct thwack. Laughter and screams alike filled with joyous delight greeted her ears from the bituminised carpark of the boardwalk, a calming balm for her senses as she tucked the key into her jacket's pocket.

Blue metal stones crunched beneath the soles of her boots as she approached the glowing neon-red sign of the boardwalk's entrance, crunching beneath her feet in tune with the beating of her heart. Amara liked gravel. She always had. She liked how it crunched underfoot, calling attention to itself with its subtle yet distinct call. Liking the way it calmed her soul and reminded her of peaceful nights spent in Santa Carla as a child.

It reminded her of nights spent on the boardwalk with Alexander and Tobias; wreaking havoc on the locals that flocked to the popular tourist destination, their footsteps pounding across the wooden planks as they wove through the boardwalk-goers. And yet, Amara couldn't find comfort in the sound as she passed beneath the antique glowing sign and willed herself to become lost within the siren call of the boardwalk.

The fragrances of the coastal amusement park engulfed Amara's senses, breathing in a lungful of air to calm the anger that pulsed within her veins from her father's words, rubbing her neck with her palm as she recalled the sharp burn of pain that had plagued her. The tangent scents of the boardwalk filling her nose with the buttery whiff of popcorn, the tantalising caress of fairy floss, and the saline spray of the ocean's turbulent tides-soothing the churring anger in her chest as the tension in her shoulders ebbed away.

A smile played at the corners of her mouth as she watched children drag their parents towards the assortment of rides. Some dragging their parents towards the carousel or Ferris wheel, while others pulled their parents towards the hollers of pure adrenaline-filled elation coming from the rollercoaster and Giant Dipper. Toddlers clutched onto their parent's hands, dutifully taking in the sights before them with wide, wonder-filled eyes as their parents led them over to the twirling teacups and show bag stalls.

As she wandered the boardwalk and basked in the clarity it evoked in her, the anger that coiled around her heart trickled away until nothing but calm serenity encased her mind. Finding peace in the blinding lights of the boardwalk like so many before her; a lost soul finding its way home, comforted by the nightlife of Santa Carla. She felt the smile that twitched at the edges of her mouth grow into a gentle grin, the beginnings of her dimples appearing as the breeze swept across her skin and tousled her unbound curls.

Letting her gaze wander the passers-by, flitting from person to person as she adjusted the strap of her black tank top and the collar of her black denim jacket-masking the gauze across the crook of her throat. She surveyed the people on the boardwalk with calm curiosity, enthralled by the lightness that danced in the patrons' eyes, eyebrows drawing together as she caught a bitterly familiar patchwork jacket from the corner of her eye.

The conscious and well-thought-out side of her mind urged her to turn around and ignore the anger that simmered within her chest, but the rage driven side wasted no time as it snatched the reins of control from Amara's hands; leading her down a path of no return. She wove through the occupants of the coastal boardwalk, sights set firmly on the sandy-blonde haired biker, who continued to analyse the boardwalk-goers with keen hazel eyes.

Shoulders knocking against unsuspecting tourists as she slinked through the entranced personages, jean-clad thigh ghosting against the shoulder of a small child as her vision tunnelled in on Marko. A high-pitched ringing noise hummed in her eardrums, drowning out the calliope music of the seaside fairground and its inhabitants. Glares and disgruntled sneers of protest drifted over the top of her head, the insults that were thrown her way ricocheting off of her skin like bullets, hitting the floor with a soft clink.